


Blank

by Pom_Rania



Series: Little By Little [17]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coping, Eye Exam, Gen, getting a blood sample taken, it was difficult, non-gendered character, not even "it" or "they", seriously I used zero gendered pronouns to refer to the droid, space braille, visually-impaired Ezra Bridger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10070660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pom_Rania/pseuds/Pom_Rania
Summary: Sabine visits the base medical droid, to try and find something to help Ezra.





	

Sabine stood nervously at the door. She knew she was in the right place. She recognized it, vaguely, from when she had taken Kanan there months ago; and more importantly, there was a sign. N0151-A... that could be both Kanan’s “Enno-fifteen” and Ezra’s “Noisi”.

There were also the dots, under the letters. As Ezra had described, they were indeed raised. She was in the right place, probably.

She looked at the writing, and traced it with her fingers. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine reading based off of just that touch. It was possible, she knew that... she just couldn’t understand being able to read that way, and only being able to read that way. She never wanted to have to understand that. (She didn’t want anyone to have to understand that.)

She checked for a buzzer. If there was one, she couldn’t see it. She raised a hand to knock, then hesitated. _Turn back,_ a part of herself whispered, _there’s nothing you can do. You’ll just make a fool of yourself._

No.

She squared her shoulders, and resolutely knocked on the door. Assuming the droid wasn’t busy, or standing directly by the door, the time from knock to response would be anywhere between –

The door slid open, and her first impression was _white_.

“Welcome, how can I be of assistance?”

She had thought of things to say – she knew that, she remembered coming up with lines on the way there – but she couldn’t remember a single one of them. She stared blankly at the droid’s face.

White, definitely; polished, not dull and dust-coloured like the other droids on base who had originally been white, presumably. Square optics, resembling some lenses she had seen worn by old pictures of scholars. Standard speech grille, and lines meant to evoke a face, yet it still looked blank and empty. Small flashes of colour, deep within, below and beside the optics. Torso... arms... didn’t appear to have individual legs, but something on wheels.

She had seen the droid before, she realized. Even aside from when she had led Kanan to his appointment there, an event which she had done her level best to erase from her memory, she remembered seeing that bright white here and there, sticking out among the motley assortment of droids populating the area. Motley assortment of non-droids, too; for items to match was the exception rather than the rule, and most of the people likely never would have met if it weren’t for their shared fight against the Empire.

She had something to do, something to ask the droid.... What was that one’s name again? She’d heard at least three different versions... and did the droid go by “he”, “it”, “they”, or what? It wasn’t what she’d been planning on asking, but it would do until the stuff came to mind again.

“What’s actually your name, and are you gendered?” she ended up saying.

Her question didn’t appear to elicit any reaction out of the ordinary; for all she knew, people went up to the droid every day and asked dumb stuff like that.

“My designation is N-zero-one-five-one-dash-A. I am aware of a multitude of nicknames used to refer to me, and I will respond to any of them, or others given context to know that I am being addressed. I had not been programmed to have an inherent gender, but many organics feel that my voice is masculine.”

No definite answer on that front then, but at least she felt more confident thinking of the droid as “Noisy” as opposed to the proper name.

The droid inclined the head towards her. “Was that the sole reason for your visit?”

No, it hadn’t been. She looked around....

“The letters on your door,” she said. “The raised ones. What are they?” She was almost certain it was what she thought it was, but she had to know for sure.

“That is the tactile alphabet, an alternate form of writing which does not require visual recognition. In my previous practice it was beneficial, as many clients were unable to sight-read any signs or direction. It is not in common use here, but I have not felt a need to use a different nameplate, without that writing on it, when this one is still quite functional.”

She briefly wondered about that “previous practice”, then shook the thought away. It wasn’t important at the moment. “I’m... interested in that. Do you have any resources?” She needed to say something more. “I don’t need... I have stuff that says what letter is what, but nothing to actually feel.”

That was horrible. She almost cringed, both at her own words, and in anticipation of how the droid would react.

“Yes, there are resources available here, from my personal supplies. The main priorities of the Rebellion unfortunately do not include visual health and coping with poor or lacking vision, nor do I have a sufficient budget to acquire everything I consider necessary, but they have expressed no issues with me keeping already-acquired supplies. Come in.”

Sabine had never actually been inside the medbay. She had been injured before, of course, and even after Chopper Base was established, but it had always been something they could take care of on the ship. The time with Kanan, which she still didn’t want to think about, she had stayed outside, and any view she might have had of the interior had been blocked by both him and the droid. If she had been asked earlier to describe what she thought it would look like, she would have said “the same as every other building there”, going by its outward appearance.

That was not entirely accurate.

The room was white. Very white. It took her a moment to realize that the lights actually were on a brighter setting, and it wasn’t just the unrelieved white which was making her eyes hurt. She idly wondered if the droid would blend right in when not in motion.

Everything was familiar, in the vague sense of one med centre looking a lot like another, if only because of the necessary functions. She saw equipment and machines she recognized but couldn’t identify, a desk and terminal, some beds.... The droid moved, no longer blocking her view, and her eye was instantly drawn to the black examination chair, such a visual contrast. The glass-doored cabinet looked like it contained some interesting chemicals, and she noted it out of habit, even if she wasn’t going to steal supplies from an ally. Aside from the door she’d just entered, there were three potential exits; but since she didn’t know where those other doors might lead, better not to count on them.

All in all, it was incredibly _boring_ , and practically begged Sabine to add some colour to the place; liven it up a bit, or a lot, as she had literally seen cell blocks with more character and colour to them than this room. Her fingers twitched, but she didn’t have any paint with her. And also the droid might get upset at that.

Speaking of the droid, Noisy had bent at the waist-equivalent and was going through a drawer, then straightened and wheeled closer, carrying something in the manipulators. The sound told her when the movement started and ended. Maybe that had been the intention and purpose of it; nobody who could hear that noise would ever be surprised by the droid’s position.

“You may take the pamphlets, I have others. These are my most easily-accessed examples of the tactile alphabet. The other resources have been put in storage, but I can retrieve them if you would like.”

“Can I... just have a moment to look at this first?”

It was the wrong word, “look”. At first glance, the pamphlets appeared empty, with a little bit of writing at the top of each. There was no reason for text to be visible.

She was doing it wrong. She closed her eyes, and felt it instead.

It was stiffer than normal flimsi, not as – ha – _flimsy_. She could barely feel anything, was this... no, she was going at it from the wrong angle, literally. Raising something up meant pushing the other side down, after all. She flipped the sheet around, and felt the bumps she had been expecting.

It was… disorienting. She couldn’t tell where one symbol ended and another began. Was she holding it right way up? She drew her fingers along what she thought was a line of text, only to find when she reached the other end that she had gone on a diagonal. This was going to be difficult. But she could manage it. Eventually.

She opened her eyes. “Okay. What else do you have?”

“Please wait here.”

She watched Noisy open one of the doors she had noted earlier; it was not in fact an exit, unless there was one hidden behind all the boxes. She wondered what was in them. Medical supplies, probably, ones that weren’t often called upon; maybe spare parts for the droid.

She looked down, at the brochures. She picked out one titled “nutrition and health” and traced the dots, this time looking at it while she did so. She could visually recognize one symbol off the top of her head, it was the letter A – or maybe the number 1, depending on context – but it was difficult to feel that single dot. She would learn, though. She didn’t know how, but she would learn. She just needed to pra–

Clattering sound. Her head shot up, and turned in the direction the droid had gone. There was still boxes... just now, more of them were unstacked. Nothing looked broken, and she was vaguely jealous.

“Assuming everything was correctly inventoried, this box should contain what you requested,” Noisy said. “Please excuse me while I return the other boxes to their places.”

“What is it?” she asked. “I mean, what’s in the box?”

The droid didn’t pause. “Items related to the tactile alphabet, both in reading and production. Aside from additional copies of the pamphlets, and incomplete or spare components, there is also a printer, and an introductory primer for learners of the tactile alphabet. Unfortunately, my tactile display was lost in the move.”

"To here?” She hadn’t thought there had been that much of a rush for Kanan –

Noisy’s head shook. “No, the move from my former practice, to the Rebellion. I cannot properly blame them, though, as they were being fired upon at the time, and at least all of the most important equipment arrived safely.”

She blinked. Huh. She really shouldn’t have been surprised; everyone had a story, even the droids, or at least the more intelligent ones. Yet there was still the obvious question….

“What’s a tactile display?” she asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like! It plugs into a terminal or datapad or the like, and displays text in the tactile alphabet by raising dots in the appropriate pattern. Once acquired, it is tremendously freeing to individuals who have difficulties sight-reading, as they don’t have to wait for any given text to be transcribed, and listening to audio is not always desirable, for a variety of reasons.”

She would have to look into that, later. Once – she pushed the thought back. Tactile display, potentially useful, that was all. “How about the ‘printer’, what’s that?”

How was a droid able to "frown” when the face was completely immobile? One of life’s great mysteries, she supposed. “Due to past errors in judgment on my part, the printer is the only method currently at my disposal for an organic to produce the tactile alphabet with the appropriate size and regularity. It is possible to do so by hand, yet I had failed to acquire the tools for that at my previous practice, so they are not available here.”

She’d heard about writing the tactile alphabet by hand; in a tactile way, and not just drawing it out, that would be useless for someone who couldn’t see it. _Someone like –_ no, she wasn’t thinking about that right now _stop it_. She remembered something about having to do it backwards, with a stencil. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t available, though.

“This printer takes text input, and – ”

Later, that was the last thing that Sabine could clearly recall, about what exactly the printer did. She tried to pay attention, she really did; but she got bogged down in all the details. Noisy was enthusiastic, that was for sure. There was something about settings and contractions and reading levels – she remembered being even more confused about that, wasn’t it all the same for literate adults? – and something about automatic spacing. It almost certainly did not mean pushing someone out the airlock, but she couldn’t understand what was actually being talked about, so the image stuck with her.

"I am unwilling to loan out the printer, but it may be used, under supervision.“

She blinked. The flood of words was over now, apparently.

”...thanks,“ she said, and hoped that her inattention hadn’t been noticed. "That just leaves the... primer, I think?”

“Yes, the primer.” Noisy held up a binder. It opened to reveal sheets of that same thicker paper with the raised dots she could feel, and flimsi with both normal writing and dot writing printed on it. The sheets were held together by three metallic rings in the centre, and the pages turned freely. “Many different texts exist, for the purpose of instruction. The one I have was originally composed by my predecessor’s predecessor.”

On the base? No, she thought, that had to refer to the droid’s “previous practice”.

“It has been described as incredibly useful for learning the tactile alphabet, both by touch and by sight.” Noisy handed it to her. “You may borrow it.”

“Are you sure?” she said, feeling the weight in her arms; she could easily carry it, but it was hefty enough to be a viable weapon if needed. “If it’s that useful, wouldn’t you need to keep it, in case there’s someone else who wants it?”

“The text is fully contained in my databanks and I am capable of printing out another copy if necessary. In addition, you are the first person to ask me about the tactile alphabet, in any form, ever since I left my former practice.“

The droid seemed somewhat pleased. At least she was good for something. She set the binder down, placing the brochures inside it; she didn’t want them to bend.

“May I just say, that it is good to have someone take an interest in the tactile alphabet. Many of my former clients had complained that there was very little available for them because, I quote second-hand, 'nobody else knew it’, and every sighted person who learns to read in that manner makes the galaxy a more hospitable place.”

Noisy paused. “Did I assume correctly that you are fully sighted? Have you been experiencing vision loss?”

No. She hadn’t even thought to consider – what if she – she couldn’t bear to think about that possibility. No.

“Please give me an eye exam,” she hurriedly said.

The droid made a pleased-sounding noise. “Excellent. Please sit down, and I will begin momentarily.”

She settled into the black examination chair, and tried to look relaxed. Noisy wouldn’t care, but she did. She didn’t need to worry yet. There had been no signs of problems. _But Ezra –_ was not her, and they weren’t genetically related in any sense more than both being human. She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting, and waited.

The droid wheeled back to her in probably less than a minute – she couldn’t trust her sense of time – with something attached to the arms. “When was your most recent eye examination?”

Good question. “A few years ago, but I’m not sure exactly,” she thought aloud. “Probably when I was still at the academy... it really hasn’t been a priority.”

There was an undeniable sound of disapproval. “A sentiment shared by too many, and not just those fighting in the Rebellion. Focus your gaze on the area beside my left optic, where a light is currently flashing as a guide, and try not to blink.”

She followed Noisy’s instructions without question or hesitation; without thought, when she could manage it. She kept her eyes open despite a painfully bright light, looked up or down or left or right, followed that one’s manipulator with her gaze, identified shapes and letters at various distances. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears all the while. _What if. What if._

The droid gave her no feedback, only directions. Was that a good sign, that there was nothing she needed to hear, or a bad sign, waiting for proof before giving her the news?

“Your visual field and acuity is within the optimal range for humans, with no apparent signs of damage or disorder. If you notice any changes, please inform me immediately, but at the moment, rest assured that everything seems to be in good condition.”

Good. _Good. Good!_ She didn’t know what she would have done if she’d been told that she was going blind too. Probably try to go out guns blazing before it got any worse, she thought; then immediately felt horrible. Kanan was _not_ “better off dead”, and Ezra wouldn’t be either, so why would it even be a thing that she would half-consider to possibly be an option for anybody else –

“Are you otherwise well? You appear to be experiencing distress.”

She realized she was shaking. She took a deep breath and clenched her fists. Her nails dug into her palms. “I’m just... relieved,” she managed. “Very relieved.”

The droid seemed to accept that at face value. “Regular appointments would serve to prevent any unpleasant surprises with regards to one’s health, visual or otherwise. Once a baseline has been established, any deviations from that can be investigated, monitored, and corrected if necessary and possible.”

Yeah, she was definitely doing that. She never wanted to go through that worry again. “Okay,” she said, “where do I sign up?”

A humming sound came from Noisy, but different than before, not from that one’s wheels. The lights below the optics began to blink rapidly, in a regular pattern. She realized it was probably the equivalent of an uncontrollable wide grin. “Excellent! Given your age and the lack of anything interesting on your test results, I would normally say to come back in a year; however, given your high-risk occupation and potential exposure to any number of harmful elements, I will instead recommend six months. Would you like me to send a reminder at that time?”

A lot could happen in six months. She didn’t know where she would be, or what she’d be dealing with, or if she’d be in any state of mind to remember. “Yeah, that’d be better.”

“Acknowledged. Records indicate that you are a member of the Ghost crew. Assuming you are still alive in six months, and have not suffered a major injury in the intervening time, I shall schedule an appointment for you at that time.“

She felt vaguely uncomfortable at that phrasing, but shrugged it off. It wasn’t like the droid was telling her anything she didn’t already know; and she’d seen too many crews coming back with empty spaces, or not at all, to harbour any illusions of invulnerability. Even before Kanan.

The droid didn’t notice her reactions. "It is gratifying to be able to fulfill my primary purpose. For so long I was relegated to mostly dealing with non-ocular trauma or preventable injuries, which any medical droid would be capable of. Now, I am being used again for my specialty, even multiple instances in short succession.”

Once she untangled what the droid meant by that, Sabine realized she often felt the same. She was more than just an explosives or weapons expert, and she felt so much more _her_ when she could do her art, and be useful in doing it. But, then, she remembered. The droid was happy to deal with eye injuries or conditions; and even her own exam was only because she had been worried.

Why did everything keep coming around to stuff she didn’t want to think about?! But she had to think about it, at least somewhat, if she wanted to be able to do something.

Tactile alphabet: dealt with, for the moment. Her own visual health: hadn’t been on the list, but she knew she was okay with it for now. She was okay, in that regard; were the others? Kanan... didn’t really have anything left to lose, and Ezra was being dealt with; Chopper didn’t have organic parts, and she more or less knew how to repair his optics anyways; that still left Hera and Zeb. Hera _needed_ her eyes to pilot, and Sabine wasn’t going to let Zeb be hurt in any way if she could help it.

“Is it okay if I can get some others to come in as well?” she said, trying to sound casual. She was already planning how she would convince, trick, drag, and/or bribe Zeb to attend an appointment. (Just because he was important to her, that didn’t mean she’d let him do what he wanted. Especially if it was for his own good.)

“Please do! Regular examinations are vital for optic health, and catching any conditions early.” Noisy paused. “Is that all?”

No. She remembered now; she’d had two reasons for coming there. One was complete. The other... she still had to do. It was a thing that maybe nobody else remembered about, but she did, and it meant something to her. This could be incredibly awkward, but it was her best possible option.

“No, there’s one more thing,” she said, and made sure to not fiddle with her sleeve. “Are you okay with drawing blood? Like, and filling a vial with it? That I could have, and take with me?”

The optics weren’t designed for giving a Stare, but she felt it anyways. “Yes, I have the knowledge and equipment to take blood samples. Why would you want me to, if not for running tests on it?”

Her mind blanked. She hadn’t actually considered having to justify that request; which just went to show how distracted she was lately. She ran through all the excuses she’d used recently. “Ask Hera about it”, her general go-to, wouldn’t work there, and “It’s your fault for not checking if it was explosive”, the excuse she had most recently given, was completely the wrong context.

“It’s a Mandalorian thing.” Hopefully the droid would leave it at that....

She got the impression of a sniff. “Unlikely. Although I have not been programmed with a comprehensive knowledge of Mandalorian customs, your statement bears marked similarities to some very common excuses. Unless I am given a truthful and valid reason, I will refuse to carry out the procedure.”

How was she going to – what could she say that – no, she had to stop and consider. There was no real reason not to tell Noisy what she had planned; it wasn’t a surprise intended for the droid after all, and patient confidentiality was probably an important part of the programming. If she couldn’t even _say_ what she wanted to do, why would she think that she’d be able to actually _do_ it?

She wasn’t going to give up. She especially wouldn’t be defeated by her own hesitancy and shame. She was better than that.

(Besides, she knew the type of people on the base, and there was absolutely zero chance that the droid had never been asked something by them for an even weirder reason. If she thought about it, she’d probably instigated some of them; Atollon could get boring very quickly, and when you brushed against death on a near-daily basis, it was easily to develop a skewed sense of what was dangerous or a bad idea.)

“It's....” She licked her lips and started again. “It’s for a blood oath, okay, and if I can’t get it here I’ll have to get it some other way, and I don’t want to freak out Ez– I don’t want to disturb people any more than would happen regardless.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m going to do it anyways,” she said. “I need my blood for this. And the last time I....” It was impossible for unaltered humans to both facepalm in embarrassment, and cross arms in defiance, at the same time; her muscles twitched before she realized that. “The last time I tried,” she forced out, “I didn’t get enough blood on what I wanted, Ketsu thought I was trying to kill myself, and I couldn’t grip anything with that hand for ages because it was too sore. It was all around a bad idea. Very bad idea. I thought it would be....”

She uncrossed her arms and looked directly at Noisy. She needed to present her request as reasonable. Which it was, after all. “I thought it would be better if an actual medical professional took the blood. That would avoid any potential issues of infection or unintended injury, and minimize the care needed.”

The droid appeared to be considering her statement. “I acknowledge your points,” Noisy said. “I do not approve, yet I will tentatively agree to assist. How much blood would you require, and when would you need it?”

"Enough to fill... I don’t have anything exact, but roughly this much?” she said, and indicated the size of the container.

“That amount can be safely removed from a human of your body mass, with minimal-to-no ill effects from blood loss. It should be safe, barring unforeseen factors.”

Was that it?

“Additionally, have you accounted for the storage and preservation requirements, and what is the immediacy?”

Of course it wasn’t that simple. Nothing ever was.

She tried to figure out what the droid was asking. She hadn’t yet answered when she needed it, so maybe that was...? “Why are you asking _me_?” she said, just to fill in space while thinking. “You’re the professional, what do you think?”

She wasn’t able to pick out any motion or vocalization, but something about Noisy made her think of someone shrugging their shoulders.

“Normally any blood extraction would be carried out for very specific purposes, with defined quantities and duration of storage. I shall restate my inquiry. You do not appear to have understood. Firstly, do you intend to use the blood for your 'oath’ as soon as it has been acquired and you are at the appropriate setting?”

No. She knew that without thinking, but hadn’t even realized she knew it, had already made that decision. That would mean doing everything right away: finding witnesses, facing Ezra (she still hadn’t seen him yet that day and she hated that she was glad of it), gathering symbolic objects, _thinking_ about symbolic objects and what they meant and why she needed to make an oath anyways, verbally acknowledging that there was a problem _something was wrong_ and she wasn’t going to make fun of him in any art he couldn’t see and it was going to be an issue because he _wouldn’t be able to see_ and no matter what she swore it wouldn’t make a difference and why had she even –

“I will not be using it today,” she calmly said. “It might be in a few days, or a few weeks. I do not know at the moment.”

She didn’t know _anything_. All the information she’d gone over with Zeb was just that, information, and she didn’t know how to best apply it, or how to apply it at all.

“Given that,” the droid continued, “are you able to store and prepare your sample until it is used?”

She had a brief but vivid mental image of Hera accidentally using it as a condiment, and was torn between wanting to laugh and gag. “Can I keep it here?” she asked. “Is that possible?”

“It is possible, as there is currently adequate storage available. The situation may yet change; if so, I would contact you so you can make arrangements for alternate storage.”

“Okay then. Let’s do this.” _That sounded horrible._ But what else could she say?

“Acknowledged. Are you able to expose the inner aspect of your elbow in your current attire, or will you require some privacy to change clothing?”

“No, I can roll up my sleeve.” It wasn’t obvious, with her armour, but she could. “Which arm?”

Noisy moved away again, she assumed to gather supplies. “Either would suffice, unless you are aware of any injuries or implants in the region that would interfere.”

“Nothing like that,” she confirmed.

“I shall be there momentarily.”

She had no idea what she was doing. She’d had blood taken before, she was familiar with the process; but just, life in general, at the moment. To start with, Mandalorian culture did not have a tradition of blood oaths, as far as she knew. It was just something she had heard about that seemed meaningful to her, so she’d come up with her own rituals, just as binding to her as anything legally recognized. She was making it up as she went along, so she didn’t have anyone she could turn to, for answers.

She didn’t know if it was a good idea. She was still going to do it eventually, she’d decided, but would it actually help Ezra feel better? Even the tactile alphabet, which she had been so sure about… would it do any good, or help in any way other than distracting her?

At least she knew Zeb was just as lost as she was. And well, if she’d waited until she knew what she was doing, she never would have escaped the academy, and somehow things had ended up eventually working out. (Although she could have done without almost dying, thank you very much.)

The droid came back. Both of her sleeves were already rolled up, as she vaguely remembered something about “dominant arm”, but wasn’t sure if that was the side that should or shouldn’t get poked. She didn’t have anything to say as she felt the chill of the sterilizing solution on the inside of her elbow, or the brief pain of a needle being inserted, or saw her red flow into the transparent vial.

It was over so quickly. Like most important moments, if she thought about it. And in a case of her mind jumping to the exact worst possible thing, she remembered that when Kanan was blinded, it had happened in less than a second, from what she heard. That had been red too, but from a blade, not blood.

But Kanan was... well, nobody she knew could be accurately described as “okay”, they all had too many problems from both inside and outside, but mostly as okay as he had been. She hadn’t been okay either, for a long time, but she had gotten back into a functional state. It had happened before, and it would happen again, with this.

She had to believe it.

She blankly stared at the vial of blood, and the droid, and the droid’s manipulator holding the vial. The colours played before her eyes, white and red and black in her peripheral vision. They made a vivid statement together, but she couldn’t tell what it was saying.

“–ntact when you require it, although doing so ahead of time would be preferable. There is no guarantee that I will be unoccupied at any given moment, as emergencies do not happen on a set schedule.”

It wasn’t that droids were hard to pay attention to. It was her. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t think straight. She knew the sensation. It was uncomfortably familiar.

“Thank you,” she said after a pause that was probably too long. “That’s all I had to do here.”

She wasn’t made for rooms with such blank walls. Nobody was; well, except Noisy (the droid probably was _literally_ made for rooms like that), but certainly not Ezra. He shouldn’t have had to get life-changing bad news at all, but it must have been even worse, being somewhere with nothing to look _at_ when told he wouldn’t be _able_ to look at anything in a few years.

It was too late to change anything that had already happened. All she could do was try to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Eventually, one way or another, she needed to bring some colour into that room. Everyone needed colour.

But what if they couldn’t see it?

She left with the binder in her arms, feeling no better than when she had arrived.


End file.
